The Assassin in Orange and Black
by Splazin101
Summary: Wally West; faithful husband, caring friend, and the Flash. In a seemingly normal museum heist, the perpetrator Tigress gets a bit risque with our favorite Scarlet Speedster. This is their story of grief, pain, recovery, and love that they find with each other.


When my communicator beeped once, twice, three times, alerting me of a museum heist underway in downtown Central City. With a roll of my eyes and a quick explanation to my wife, Linda Park, as to exactly _why_ I had to have a rain check on the anniversary dinner we'd been planning for weeks in advice, followed up by a peck on the cheek and an apologetic pout, I walked out of the house. In a flash (shut the fuck up, my puns are amazing), I was back in the crimson suit and hauling booty patootie, for lack of a better word, towards the museum. In no time flat (seriously, two seconds at the absolute most) I was skidding to a halt in the Central City Museum. With a quick glance around the room, I determined the alert had been a false alarm; as I made my way to walk out of the museum and back into my wife's loving embrace, I felt a knife press slowly against my Adam's apple.

"Stop." A gravelly voice commanded. The knife pressed harder, and I did as I was told. "Turn around." The voice commanded again; I did as I was told, and the knife stayed attached to my neck as I turned to see… Tigress? The League of Shadow's trump card? Wha- why?

"Uh, can I help you?" I asked, acting as if we had met in a coffee shop on a Monday afternoon, instead of after closing time in the Central City Museum, clad in very revealing spandex costumes.

"So, Flasher." The assassin in orange purred. "What're you doing downtown on a night like this? You and I both know that…" She leaned in and exhaled hotly on where my ear was, "The night is full of monsters like me." She whispered. A shiver raced through my body, and my hands rose unbidden to her waist. I felt a… magnetism to this villain, an attraction seemed to consume my entire body. Her spare hand smacked mine away, and she tsked in disapproval.

"No no no Flash-boy, no touching the goods. That's _my_ job." She whispered huskily into my ear. I stood there passively as her spare hand explored my body, feeling my chiseled muscles. I was trying my absolute damnedest to not grab her hips and press her body that a goddess would go green with envy over flush against mine, and have my way with her. That thought shocked me back into reality. I was in the Central City Museum, being felt up by a _villain_. And I have a _wife_.

"Oh Einstein," I muttered. "Son of a bitch." She stopped her advanced, raising an eyebrow, asking the unspoken question. "I'm married." I explained.

"Oh. _Oh_." Her eyes widened behind her mask as the gravity of what I said hit her. I nodded solemnly. "Guess what?" She asked, leaning back into me. "_I don't care._" And that was when I knew I was screwed. She leaned in for a kiss, and when her soft lips touched mine, my mind was wiped like a hard drive. I was married. I was in love with Linda Park. But the assassin in orange and black owned me. Her hands flew to my cowl, clawing at the spandex, aching for hair to entwine in. I pulled out a spare domino mask that Dick always made me carry on me, before turning around, pulling my cowl off and putting the mask on.

"So, the Flash is a ginger. The fact that you have a cowl to hide that sickens me." I turned around to face her, and crossed my arms.

"I'm rolling my eyes, babe." She grinned in response.

"It's okay Flash-man, I don't mind the firecrotch." She winked at me. I shook my head, but the smile on my face ruined the effect. She stepped forward, and pulled me in for a kiss, tangling one hand in my hair while her other slid to my stomach, tracing the muscles that resided there. One of my hands slid into her silky blond hair while my other hand slipped into the comfortable spot at her side, running up and down her curves. My thumb 'accidentally' brushed against the bottom of her voluptuous, perky breasts, teasing her slightly judging by the moans that slipped from her mouth to mine. After some furious time spent making out with my would-be enemy, I pull away.

"I'm sorry Tigress, but I need to get home. My wife is expecting me." I say, avoiding her gaze. She recognizes what I'm trying to do and pulls my gaze to hers.

"Will I see you again?" She asks, her sharp grey eyes imploring me. I realize that, for the first time in a long time, she's placing herself in a vulnerable position.

"I'll do my best. On the roof, in a week?"

"I don't know if I can wait a week, Flashy." She winks at me, and I simply roll my eyes.

"I'm rolling my eyes, babe. I'll see you in a week, around 10, on the roof. Gotta run." With that, I plant a kiss on her plump lips and zip home.


End file.
